


Sunlight and Strawberry Bubble Gum

by serenelystrange



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Sterek Secret Santa 2016, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:35:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9071992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenelystrange/pseuds/serenelystrange
Summary: Stiles and Derek try to find the hottest toy of the holiday season, and quickly remember why they love online shopping so much! This is just some good old fashioned fluff, folks, with the tiniest bit of feels.





	

“Any luck?” Derek asks as he comes in, kicking the door to the apartment behind him.

Stiles just grumbles from where he’s sitting on the couch, bent over his laptop with aggravation clear across his face.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Derek muses, stifling his laughter at Stiles’ grumpy expression.

“It’s sold out everywhere!” Stiles exclaims, stopping himself just short of actually tossing the laptop to the floor, instead placing it gently on the coffee table, but not before giving it another glare for good measure.

“Even Amazon?” Derek asks, frowning. Amazon doesn’t usually fail them.

Stiles scoffs. “Amazon practically laughed at me when I searched!”

“I’m sure it did,” Derek says, settling in next to Stiles on the couch and pulling him down to rest his head across his lap so he can rub his temples.

“You’re going to give yourself an aneurysm,” Derek says when Stiles huffs about being manhandles. “Plus, you know you love it when I manhandle you.”

“Things I say in bed cannot be held against me outside of bed!” Stiles protests, but his eyes flutter closed all the same as Derek drains the pain from his throbbing temples.

“Our bed is not Las Vegas,” Derek says, moving his massage from Stiles’ temples to the tight cords of his neck.

“Well then I’m not wearing the feather boa anymore!” Stiles says, smirking.

Derek takes a moment to flick him in the nose before going back to his massage.

“Rude,” Stiles says, wiggling his nose but otherwise making no attempt to move.

“I’ll just trade you in for one of those Thunder Down Under guys,” Derek says, laughing at Stiles’ resulting offended expression. “I bet one of them would wear a boa for me, and they have accents.”

“I can do accents!” Stiles says, scrabbling up and settling into Derek’s lap, wrapping his long legs around Derek’s waist. “Pip pip, cheerio, Guvner! God bless us, everyone!”

“I think I can safely speak for the entirety of Great Britain that you should never try that accent again. Whatever that was.”

“I’d like to see you do an accent!” Stiles replies, glaring.

“I’d like to see _you_ do an accent,” Derek snarks right back, grinning smugly.

“Ugh, why do I love you?” Stiles says, wrinkling his nose in faux-distaste.

Derek just rolls his eyes. “I’ve been told repeatedly that my ass has a lot to do with it.”

“And we’re back to the no bringing up things I said in the bedroom outside of the bedroom!”

“You have absolutely said that outside of the bedroom. Multiple times. I’m pretty sure Erica has it on video somewhere.”

“Vixen!” Stiles exclaims, before dropping his head onto Derek’s shoulder and taking a deep breath.

“Thanks for calming me down with your wolfy mojo. I’d love you even if your ass wasn’t a work of art!”

Derek snorts a laugh and rubs Stiles’ back soothingly. “I love you, too. Now, are you sure you checked all the stores?”

Stiles nods wearily against Derek’s shirt. “Mhm,” he says. “Every site says sold out with no restock date available. There’s a few on Ebay, but they’re literally thousands of dollars, AND there’s no guarantee they’d even get here by Christmas.”

“You know I’d pay it to make the kid happy,” Derek says, shrugging.

“I know,” Stiles says, finally sitting back up. “But it’s not even worth it if it won’t get here till after Christmas. And nobody wants you spending that much money on them, even though you have it.”

“Have you checked the actual stores?” Derek says suddenly, looking up at Stiles, relieved to see the blotchy panic seems to have faded from his skin.

“You mean like the physical stores?” Stiles asks.

Derek nods and Stiles frowns in thought.

“I didn’t even consider that,” he says finally, “figured the websites would tell me if anything was available.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Derek says, “we both have the night off for once, we can go check out a few stores.”

“It’s a good thing my boyfriend is so old,” Stiles teases, “not all caught up in the digital age like the rest of us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek says, shoving Stiles’ shoulder gently. “Go put some pants on and we can go.”

“First you mock my accent, and now you want me to put pants on,” Stiles sighs dramatically, “where has the passion gone?!”

Derek just rolls his eyes again and shoves Stile’s off of his lap, ignoring the offended squawk he gets for it.

.

.

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” Stiles asks, crowding closer to Derek and grabbing his hand in a tight grip.

The Wal-Mart around them has descended into the special kind of chaos that only the few days before Christmas can bring about. Children are screaming and crying in every direction, parents are melting down with stress, and harried looking employees are just trying to keep the peace as best they can.

“I hate Amazon so much right now,” Derek agrees, trying to focus on Stiles and not the overwhelming onslaught of noises and scents that surround them.

“We’ve been spoiled,” Stiles says. “Ok, let’s just go over to the toy section and then get the hell out as fast as we can.”

Derek may or may not growl and flash his eyes a few times along to way to get through the crowd. He has no regrets.

“Oh look, there’s a sign for them!” Stiles says, pointing to a large and beat up looking cardboard display.

They reach the display only to find the shelves completely empty, and all the raincheck forms already claimed.

“What is this thing, anyway?” Derek asks, squinting at the picture on the display. “Some sort of doll?”

“Dolly Grows-With-Me,” Stiles corrects. “I guess it starts out as a baby and grows over a few months until it’s the size of like a little kid.”

“What.”

“Yeah,” Stiles continues. “It’s some crazy advance science, which is why it’s $300 even before the re-selling markup. “They basically created an android and marketed it to children.”

“What.” Derek repeats, staring at the display in dumbfounded shock.

“You really had no idea?” Stiles asks, laughing.

Derek shakes his head. “It just seems…”

“Incredibly fucking creepy?” Stiles asks, laughing.

“So creepy,” Derek agrees.

“Still not as bad as Furby,” Stiles says. “I’m pretty sure the one I had as a kid is still alive somewhere, speaking in tongues and plotting world domination.”

“Didn’t you tell me you buried that thing like 15 years ago?” Derek asks.

“Like mere soil could hold devil-spawn for too long!”

Derek just shakes his head.

“Come on, let’s go check Target.”

Stiles stops himself before launching into a full rant about the Furby epidemic and instead looks at Derek questioningly.

“You still want to track one down? Even knowing how creepy they are?”

“Charlie wants it,” he says, simply. “It’s all she’s been asking for the whole year. And if a 5 year old wants something for that long without changing their mind, I figure she must really want it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Stiles says, but he’s grinning at him sappily. “You’re such a good uncle, though.”

“Shut up,” Derek says, the tips of his ears and nose going red at the compliment. “You’re a good uncle, too.”

“Damn straight. We’re a motherfucking power couple!” Stiles says, pumping his fist in the air and speaking just a little too loudly.

“Language!” a middle aged woman surrounded by at least five children under ten years old scolds him.

“Birth control!” Stiles scolds back, gesturing at the small army of children around her legs.

Before the woman can snap and murder Stiles, Derek gives her an apologetic smile and when she’s momentarily dazzled by it, pulls Stiles away and steers them towards the exit before any violence can erupt.

.

.

“Well that was a waste of several hours,” Stiles grumbles when they finally get home.

Derek nods in agreement, yawning widely. “We’ll get her something else, I’m sure we’ll find something awesome. But tomorrow. That was exhausting.”

“The pizza was good, though” Stiles says. “We should go back there. Where was that place?”

“I don’t even remember,” Derek says, “it’s all a blur.”

“We’ll just have to drive around town with your head out the window until you smell the right place,” Stiles says, tapering off into his own yawn.

“That was one time!” Derek defends. “And it was to find our kidnapped friends, not pizza!”

“Pizza is better, though,” Stiles says, “we can’t eat our friends.”

“Well, we’re not cannibals,” Derek says, “so, there’s that.”

“Would you still be a cannibal if you ate someone when in wolf form?” Stiles asks. “Or like… half a cannibal? Bi-cannibal?”

“Oh my god,” Derek says, moving past Stiles to go collapse into bed, knowing full well that Stiles will follow him soon enough.

“Derek!” Stiles shouts after him. “That’s valid question, damn it. Answer me!”

“No!” Derek yells back, already lying in bed naked, buried under the blanket to replace the lingering scents of the shopping crowds with their own.

It’s quiet for a blissful few minutes, but just as Derek is on the edge of sleep, the bed dips next to him, and then Stiles is there, burrowing under the covers and curling into Derek’s side.

“No as in no, you wouldn’t be a cannibal, or no as in you won’t answer me?” Stiles asks, determined.

“I don’t know,” Derek finally says. “Cannibal Classification wasn’t covered at Werewolf Academy.”

Stiles laughs, no doubt picturing a bunch of little werewolf kids in shredded prep-school uniforms.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, the serious tone of his voice snapping Derek of his half-sleep.

“What is it?” he asks, pulling Stiles closer until he has his back against Derek’s chest and Derek’s arm across his stomach.

He knows that it’s easier for Stiles to say serious things when he can avoid their faces.

Stiles is quiet for another moment, before grabbing Derek’s hand in both of his own and fiddling with his fingers idly.

“Are you happy?” he asks. “I mean, with me? Are you happy with me?”

“Of course I am,” Derek says immediately, trying to quell the panic that’s threatening to rise in his chest. “Are you?”

“What?” Stiles asks, “yeah, obviously! You’re the best thing in my life, dude. I just thought…”

“What?” Derek asks, now that his heart rate has returned to normal.

“I know that I can be immature,” Stiles says, “and that I talk too much, and annoy you with dumb stuff, and I know people look at you and wonder what the hell you’re doing with someone like me when you could do so much better, and I don’t know. Sometimes I just think about it too much and I can’t shake it.”

“Babe,” Derek says softly, because he knows Stiles secretly loves the pet name even if he won’t admit it. “People are idiots. You’re the best thing in my life, too.” He leans down and kisses Stiles on the cheek, squeezing him tighter against his chest. “There is _nobody_ better than you.”

“You’re such a sap,” Stiles says, but he turns back around so he can kiss Derek properly before continuing. “But I’m glad you’re happy. I wanna keep you happy forever. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I’m sure you can convince me,” Derek grins, wide and happy and still the most beautiful thing Stiles has ever seen.

.

.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from a Matt Nathanson song, because it accurately encompasses how happy I want these two idiots to be! Also, the "like to see you do an accent" bit is shamelessly borrowed from Leverage. Because I freaking love that show.


End file.
